Human Collateral

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3Miles arrived at the office around eight-thirty to prepare for his nine o’clock interview with Anne Jeffries. He made a list of all the tasks he expected her to perform, followed by a list of talking points including compensation, work hours, confidentiality, and so on. Lastly, he added questions about her work experience, specifically her current employment with a defense attorney.

She walked through the door at eight fifty-five, which meant she already had one gold star for punctuality.

“Good morning, Anne. Thanks for coming in,” Miles said with an approving smile.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Darien,” she replied.

“Please call me Miles.” He gestured to a nearby table and the two of them took a seat. “So tell me a bit about yourself.”

“Well, I’ve been divorced for fifteen years. My daughter lives in Burlington with her husband and eleven year old son. They’re only a thirty minute car ride away so I spend a lot of time with them as I do with my women friends. I’ve been working for Jerry Slater for a little over ten years. He’s retiring, as I mentioned in my email. What else would you like to know?” she offered.

“I’d be interested to know what appealed to you about this job,” he asked.

“I read all about that case and the work you did uncovering the conspiracy,” she said enthusiastically. “I was intrigued by the possibility of working on cases like that.”

“What questions do you have for me?” Miles asked.

“What brought you to Lakeville?”

“The Lakeville Police Department needed a forensic specialist, so they hired me to work on a one-year contract. Shortly after I moved here, I met Robert and we became a couple. It worked out fine for a while but when Robert and I broke up, it seemed the perfect time for me to strike out on my own. While I have a degree in forensic science, it was the non-scientific side of investigating that interested me most.”

“Must have been hard leaving the security of the police department though with, I assume, only minimal local connections.”

“It was, but liberating at the same time. My being gay wasn’t always looked upon favorably at the department. This allowed me the freedom to pick my cases and use techniques my narrow forensic lab work at the department never would. Through my friendship with Mickey Martin, a retired judge, I started to build my practice. My involvement in the high profile case of Jack McKay being framed for child pornography is what has created my burgeoning workload and need for an assistant.”

Switching back to the job interview, Miles asked her to explain her current job duties, which pretty much aligned with what Miles needed her to do. He laid out a few additional tasks from his list that she’d be asked to do. She acknowledged her agreement with a nod. The conversation then went to the subject of compensation.

“Jerry pays me by the hour,” she explained. “He doesn’t need me full time, which is good for me too. It affords me plenty of time with my family and friends and my hobbies. He pays me twenty five dollars an hour and I’m averaging about thirty hours a week. He also gives me an additional two hundred fifty dollars a month to offset some of my health insurance premiums. With my alimony payments, I’m good. Speaking of my financial wellbeing, do I have a chance at getting this position?”

Miles really connected with Anne’s honest and straightforward manner.

“Yes,” he said with a smile. “When can you start?”

“Well, that’s the rub. I promised Jerry I’d stay on until all of his cases are completed. That may take a month or so. Does that change your offer?”

“No, provided you can help me out in one way between now and then.”

“What’s that?”

“My phone system allows me to forward incoming calls to another number. Would you be amenable to me forwarding those calls to you when I’m out of the office?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Good. Then I’m fine with continuing your same compensation program to start. What’s your mobile phone number?”

Anne picked up his phone and added herself to his contacts. Her take charge attitude made Miles chuckle. He had obviously found the right person for the job.

Ryan was awakened at eight a.m. by the sound of a garbage truck collecting the trash in front of his apartment. He accepted noise being a constant factor in New York City and normally the hour wouldn’t be an issue, but he had worked on his essay into the wee hours of the morning after getting home from Gray’s Papaya. Only half awake, he made his way to the kitchen to get some much-needed coffee going when his cell phone rang.

“Hi, buddy boy!” It was Miles.

Ryan and Miles met in third grade. Their teacher seated the class in alphabetical order, so Ryan Duffy sat behind Miles Darien the entire year. They’d been best friends ever since.

“Hey, Miles. I was going to call you later to talk about my travel plans for Sunday. Hold on a second while I get my itinerary.” Ryan reached for his notebook. “Okay. Are you going to write this down?”

“We private investigators are good at remembering details. Give it to me,” Miles replied in mock anger.

“Delta flight 762. Arrives MKE at 11:35 a.m.”

Miles explained he would be waiting for him in the cell phone lot and said to call him once he had retrieved his bags.

“I’ve been working non-stop for three months on my latest piece, and I’m ready for some R&R.”

“R&R is my specialty. Your vacation is in good hands. See you Sunday.” Miles hung up without a formal goodbye.

Ryan flipped on the coffee pot and sat down to assess what he still needed to do to meet his deadline. Between his notes and what he had already written, all the pieces were there. He just needed to splice it all together. The key to making his article more than just the retelling of two opposite positions was finding a solution. Could he come up with an idea that could lead to a positive outcome for both sides? It dawned on him that any solution would, at the very least, have to include two key elements: Elimination of the demand for coal, and then new jobs for the coal industry workers. He decided to call Roger Jamison, his parents’ former colleague and close friend at Columbia University. Professor Jamison was the former head of the Economics Department who was now frequently seen offering his views on cable news shows. If anyone could lead him in the right direction, it was the professor. He decided to give him a call.

The professor seemed genuinely pleased to hear from him and listened intently as Ryan explained his essay problem.

“Outlining the pros and cons is fairly straight forward,” he said. “I’m struggling to find a satisfactory path towards a mutually acceptable solution. Can you give me any guidance?”

“So much to be said. Why don’t you come over this afternoon so we can discuss it at length? Say, about two?” Offered the professor.

Ryan was elated at the prospect of getting expert guidance in resolving his dilemma. “I will. Thank you for the generous invitation. Are you still on 89th Street?”

“Yes, see you then. I’ll have tea ready.”

The path to Professor Jamison’s apartment led Ryan through his old Upper West Side neighborhood. It was still basically populated by middle class families, although the cost of living in that part of the city had grown significantly over time. It still had a large Jewish population, but there had always been many other ethnic groups represented. Case in point were Ryan’s great-grandparents, who emigrated from Ireland and settled there in the early 1900s.

Along the way, he passed the house where he grew up. The small brownstone looked very much the same. It took him back to his childhood, playing kick-the-can and stick ball in the street with the neighborhood kids. A couple of blocks further, he passed Miles’s childhood home, a red-brick apartment building with a large lobby and numerous mailboxes lined up on one wall. He remembered the first time he was invited over to play. How he had questioned Miles about the metal thing that was nailed to the doorway entrance to the Darien’s unit. The explanation of the significance of the Mezuzah was his first lesson in Jewish customs. Miles would further Ryan’s Jewish education frequently over the years, particularly the food culture. The Darien family’s religious affiliation was much more ethnic than religious, which mirrored Ryan’s own religious experience. His Irish Catholic heritage showed up mostly symbolically but not ceremonially, like having a Christmas tree but seldom attending church services.

Just before reaching the professor’s apartment, Ryan passed the corner where the men’s clothing store owned by Miles’s father had once been. The storefront was now another convenience store, just like the thousands of others that catered to New York City’s multitudes of on-the-go inhabitants. Ryan and Miles had been part-time workers at the clothing store when they were kids. If Miles’s mom, Helen, needed a break, she’d send the two of them to the store so Miles’s dad, Ben, could keep them occupied. The boys did odd jobs like breaking down the boxes the suits arrived in, sweeping up the remnants in the tailor’s workshop, or running to the bank to get some change for the cash register. Ben always referred to the boys as “the odd couple” since they looked and acted so differently. Miles was tall and wiry with dark hair, Semitic features, and an introspective personality. Ryan was quite a bit shorter, looking every bit the Irishman with reddish-blond hair and a slightly turned-up nose. He had the stereotypical gift of gab, which he displayed at every opportunity. Another difference between them was the gender of the people they were attracted to. No jealousy over each other’s dates had eliminated that typical boyhood conflict.

As he rounded the corner onto 89th Street, Ryan returned to present day and the task at hand. When he arrived at the professor’s building, he rang the bell and was buzzed in. As he climbed the creaky wooden stairs to the third-floor apartment, he was struck by how much the place smelled like old books, the way a library smelled. He assumed the building was likely populated by numerous members of the Columbia faculty, past and present.

“Welcome, Mr. Duffy. So nice to see you.” The professor seemed genuinely pleased by Ryan’s arrival. He was just as Ryan had remembered him. Short, balding, and round with smiling eyes peeking through his horn-rimmed glasses.

“Been a long time, Professor Jamison. Thanks for inviting me over to chat.”

“It is I who should be thankful. It’s so nice to see a new face. These days I only seem to see the other inhabitants of this building, and they’re mostly former colleagues whom I’ve been seeing for decades.” Ryan had been right about the reason behind the pervasive smell of old books.

“Happy to be of service,” Ryan said with a wry smile.

The professor retreated to the kitchen to fetch the teapot. The tea bags, milk, sugar, cups, and a plate of cookies were already positioned on the coffee table. Once he returned, each poured themselves a cup and added their other ingredients.

Once settled, the professor began. “Bring me up to speed on where you are with your essay.”

Ryan filled him in on his basic premise. The two factions, the coal industry and the environmentalists, were in a stalemate with no real solution in sight. The essay outlined the positions of both sides: How the coal industry was providing jobs and filling an existing demand for their product and how the environmentalists sought to break the cycle of pollution and hazardous workplaces. The essay went on to explore the ongoing efforts to make coal cleaner and the workplace safer, concluding only modest gains had been made in those areas. The missing piece, he explained, was a path to resolving the stalemate. Eliminating the need for coal by replacing it with an alternative or alternatives while avoiding the destruction of regional economies and putting tens of thousands of mostly unskilled workers onto the rolls of the hopelessly unemployed, seemed to be an insurmountable goal.

After a short pause and a few strokes of his beard, the professor spoke. “Well, Ryan, like most complex economic problems, there is no singular solution. I’d approach it as a series of small steps that could eventually lead to a new paradigm. Eat the elephant one bite at a time, so to speak. I’d begin by developing a plan that includes new jobs for the coal industry workers. Remember their primary objection is to prevent job loss, not a love of coal. If they can find good paying jobs above ground, they’ll likely jump on board. The real trick is what you come up with to decrease the demand for coal.”

“I agree. But finding that alternative has eluded me.”

The professor again paused and stroked his beard. “One bite at a time, my boy. One bite at a time. I suggest you come up with a series of alternate measures that could be implemented to help phase out coal. Just to flip a switch and the light goes on won’t work here.” He smiled, enjoying his own analogy.

“I understand. Luckily, I still have three days to come up with those alternatives,” Ryan said, making light of his impending deadline.

They spent the rest of the visit reminiscing about Ryan’s parents. How the three professors became friends serving on a faculty budget advisory committee for the school of liberal arts at Columbia. About their visits to jazz clubs in the village and the dinner parties they took turns hosting. Ryan had fond memories of being included in several of their outings.

Before he left, Ryan promised to stay in touch. He really enjoyed the professor’s company and felt like, in a way, it kept him connected to his parents, who had both passed more than ten years ago.

He headed home and straight to his desk to tackle his seemingly impossible quest for solutions to the coal dilemma. The rest of the day and evening was lost fitfully searching for possibilities which could move the opposing factions towards a mutually beneficial outcome. He gave up and went to sleep hoping a new day would deliver new options.

Ryan awoke the next morning with a renewed enthusiasm for his quest. As he downed a bowl of cereal, the first good possibility came to him in a sudden moment of clarity. Use tax incentives to lure a major heating and cooling equipment manufacturing company into opening a plant in West Virginia. Sweeten the pot by adding a private equity investment in the company aimed at developing new technology to convert existing coal-burning furnaces into alternative fuel consuming devices. The third piece would be funding for vocational training, which would provide the new skills needed to convert coal workers into factory workers. The revenue generated by the economic boost the job shift would provide pays back the tax incentives the state provides upfront. This one multifaceted solution would address the needs of each of the stake holders.

Ryan would use this concept to demonstrate how, if all sides of the issue are considered, solutions could be found that would provide benefits for each constituency. It was not the solution, but rather highlighted one of many possibilities which could ultimately solve the problem. He was so excited he left his bowl of cereal on the table, mostly uneaten, and literally ran to his desk. He didn’t look up until he had finished a complete draft of his essay many hours later. It was just after midnight, so Wednesday night had become Thursday morning. For the first time in days, he’d get a good night’s sleep.